


Covert Excursions and Time Management

by growntiredofthisbody



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Between s3e21 and s3e22, First Time, Getting Together, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, More like "Feelings with Porn" at times, Porn with Feelings, lots of emotions, midnight visits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25730389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/growntiredofthisbody/pseuds/growntiredofthisbody
Summary: Troy manages to sneak out of A/C repair school for the night.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 21
Kudos: 187





	Covert Excursions and Time Management

**Author's Note:**

> hey

“I’m worried about Abed.”

That’s not the first time he’s heard someone say that into a phone when they think he’s not listening, but it’s the first time he’s heard it in a while. He discreetly turns the TV’s volume down a few notches, and tilts his head slightly towards Annie’s room.

He still doesn’t hear much. A few words per sentence, _almost_ enough to understand the general content of each one. Muffled half-heard conversations usually lead to hilarious and/or tragic misunderstandings, but Abed already knows what this is about.

Troy left, and nothing’s been the same since.

It’s not the sadness that bothers him. He expected to be sad. What ends up catching him off guard is the bursts of anger that interrupt the sadness.

As much as he would like to pretend otherwise, they follow too clear a pattern to be believably random. Watching a movie, sitting down to eat, even repairing the blanket fort when something collapses or shifts out of place. The little things, that he’s been doing for his whole life and will continue to do, with or without Troy.

But Troy came into his life, and he made them different. Watching a movie wasn’t just watching a movie anymore, it was _watching a movie with Troy,_ and it no longer made any sense without him.

And Troy _left._

He sighs, and switches off the TV. Blaming Troy doesn’t make him feel any better. He didn’t want to leave, and it’s not his fault Abed can’t let go. Maybe he’ll just sleep, and hope the last month was all just a dream, even if that’s one of the worst tropes ever conceived and would completely ruin everyone’s arc. He’ll excuse it just this once.

Without the noise of the TV, Abed can finally hear what he’s been missing for the past few minutes. Something taps at the window, light and fast.

A bird? He hopes so, he likes to leave birdseed on the outer windowsill so they’ll stop there for a moment. Not wanting to scare it away, he approaches very slowly, keeping his head down.

He hears the tapping noise again, louder this time. Too loud to be a bird. A squirrel? A stray cat, even? He still walks slowly, though now more out of caution than interest.

When he’s just a few short steps from the window, he hears it again. This time, it doesn’t stop after three or four.

Abed blinks, as if that’s going to change what he’s hearing.

The rhythm of his and Troy’s Spanish rap is being tapped on his window.

He crosses the remaining distance in barely more than a second and pulls the window open, leaning out and seeing exactly what he expected to see.

Nothing.

Abed lets out a breath he knew he was holding, though he tries to act like he didn’t know, because that’s a better narrative device to illustrate mounting tension. Tomorrow, he’ll probably have to tell Annie that he’s imagining things again. Or Jeff, or Shirley, or maybe even Britta if he feels like finally throwing her a therapy-patient-shaped bone.

He takes a step back, ready to close the window, and Troy’s head pops up from below.

“Abed!” His grin’s impossibly wide- even for Troy, who can fit a lot more pencils into his mouth than Abed can. “Not to already be asking for stuff, but can you help me up? My arms feel like spaghetti with muscles.”

Mouth dry and head light, Abed reaches down and lets Troy grab his arms. With that help, Troy’s able to pull himself up onto the windowsill and climb into the apartment, making absolutely no attempt to land anywhere besides directly on top of Abed.

Predictably enough, he’s knocked to the ground, and Troy falls with him at the perfect angle for them to end up with their faces barely an inch apart. He can see Troy’s eyes (and not much else), wide and staring directly at him.

Abed can’t bring himself to stare back. It’s a classic story- not realising you loved someone until you’ve already lost them. Or not letting yourself realise until then, because pining for someone who’s gone might be sad, but it’s not as if things can get any _worse._ You can’t ruin it by saying the wrong thing or distancing yourself at the wrong time, and there’s no big changes that happen before you’re ready.

Until he comes back. Because the thought-lost love returning is a classic story too, and you can never really be sure which one you’re in until it happens.

The moment doesn’t last as long as Abed’s rapid-fire thoughts make it seem. Blinking, Troy shifts himself off Abed, sitting on the floor next to him. “Hey.”

It sounds casual. It’s anything but. “Hey.” He takes in the sight of Troy’s hands, his hair, his neck, his smile, anything and everything but his eyes. “You came back.”

“Just for tonight.” Troy shrugs a little. “I snuck out of A/C school. I got to put a basketball and a sack of potatoes in my bed- I always wanted to do that.”

Abed nods. He’s done that before, he knows how much fun it is. “Are they watching the apartment? Is that why you had to climb up?”

“Nah, I always wanted to do that too.” Troy stands up and extends a hand down to Abed, who’s still lying down. “You okay, buddy?”

Abed stands up, without taking Troy’s hand. “I’ve been trying to adjust,” he says, because that sounds a little better than “I haven’t left the apartment once and everything I do feels like you’re missing from it”.

“Me too. But I don’t know if I ever will.” Something cracks in Troy’s voice towards the end, surprising Abed into forgetting that he shouldn’t make eye contact. He looks, and sees a face so sad that even he can’t miss it.

Troy makes another broken sound, and pulls him into a hug. Their shapes haven’t changed- they fit together like a puzzle with two pieces, which Abed has never actually seen, because that sounds way too easy to solve. Holding Troy is even easier.

“I missed you so much,” Troy informs him through intermittent sobs over his shoulder. “I missed everyone.”

“We missed you.” Abed isn’t crying, but something’s burning in his throat, and he has to struggle to keep emotion out of his voice instead of struggling to put it there. “I can call everyone. I know it’s late, but they’ll still come.”

“No.” Troy pulls him a little closer. “Abed, I… I snuck out to see you.”

He doesn’t say _and only you._ He doesn’t need to.

A sudden cold breeze reminds Abed to close the window, which he does. Once it’s secure, he looks back towards Troy. “Blanket fort?”

Tears still streaming down his face, Troy smiles and nods. “Race you.”

* * *

The blanket fort hasn’t changed a bit since Troy left.

Or, rather- it has changed, but those changes never last long before Abed fixes them. As long as everything looks the same, when he wakes up in the morning, he can spend a few seconds believing that Troy’s still sleeping in the bunk below him.

That’s the bunk they’re both sitting on, pressed against each other from shoulder to hip. Abed talks about what the rest of the study group is up to (including their increasingly harebrained schemes to bust Troy out), and Troy talks about the bizarre and lonely existence of an air conditioning repair student.

“And I hate this outfit,” he says at the end of a long and impassioned speech about his misery. “Actually, I’m just taking it off.”

And he does. The dull grey jumpsuit comes off, revealing a tank top and boxers underneath. “That’s better.” He settles back into his position next to Abed, as if nothing’s different at all.

Well, why should it be? They’ve seen each other wearing much less, and it was no big deal- before Abed let himself acknowledge his feelings. Now his skin burns beneath his clothes when Troy gets close enough.

He hears a sigh of contentment from Troy, which is strange to hear when he feels the complete opposite. He’s used to their feelings being in sync. Have things really changed so much in just under a month?

“Abed?” There’s an expression on his face that Abed doesn’t recognise. “Are you sure you’re okay, man?”

“Okay in what way?” He hates it when people hedge around questions. He hates _himself_ for doing it, especially to Troy. “The answer… might be no.”

He looks down at the floor, and so doesn’t see Troy leaning closer until their noses lightly brush against each other. Abed blinks and looks up, and Troy is _right there,_ eyes big and beautiful as twin TV screens. He thinks he might have found a new favourite show.

“It’s okay if you’re not okay,” Troy whispers, his voice shaking again. “I don’t think I am either.”

His breath’s warm against Abed’s lips. Abed doesn’t think he’s breathed once in the last minute. Maybe the oxygen deprivation contributes to what he says next, but he can’t pretend he wasn’t curious before. “Are you going to kiss me?”

Troy’s eyes get a little wider, and that unfamiliar expression comes back. “Do you want me to?”

Abed almost explains that he didn’t necessarily ask because he _wants_ that, mostly because he was just wondering if things were going that way and if so what to expect, but none of that sounds as good an idea as just kissing Troy. He really does get all his best ideas when they’re together.

Troy makes a little sound when their lips meet, and some small, discarded part of Abed expects to be pushed away and slapped for daring to kiss a prom king and high school quarterback. But high school was years ago, and Troy only grabs him to pull him closer.

Their kiss lasts a long time- Abed was never the best at tracking time, but it’s definitely somewhere between ten seconds and an hour. Troy takes a quick breath, seemingly unable to keep his eyes off Abed for more than an instant. “Do you know how long I’ve been wanting you to do that?”

Abed carefully reviews the social evidence. The closeness, the whispering, the expectant looks… “A few minutes?”

Troy shakes his head, still smiling. “Try a few years.”

Abed frowns back. “That’s impossible. I would have noticed.” Even if most expressions elude him, he’s seen enough people who want to kiss him to learn to recognise the look.

“Not even _I_ noticed for a while.” Troy reaches over to hold Abed’s hand. “I didn’t think someone like me could like other guys. You showed me I can be whoever I want… and that kind of scared me. So I didn’t really think about it until-“

“Until I was already gone,” Abed finishes for him. “Because it’s safer to love someone who isn’t around.”

“But I want you around.” Troy’s voice approaches a pleading tone. “I know we don’t have much time, but Abed… I love you.”

Somehow, he knows the right thing to say. “I know.”

He has to say it quickly, because Troy’s already moving in to kiss him again.

* * *

Abed can’t remember what he was so worried about. Whatever stood in the way of their perfect synchronicity seems to be gone, and every move they make feels right. Somewhere in the midst of their first burst of making out, Troy fell back onto the bed and pulled Abed down with him, and that’s where they’re still laying when Troy slips both his hands below Abed’s T-shirt.

His hands are cold against Abed’s warm skin, but he doesn’t pull away. He only squirms a little, and waits for the temperatures to equalise. Meanwhile, Troy’s fingertips glide over the lean muscles of his chest, almost all the way up to his collarbone, and back down.

“Should I just take this off?” Abed tugs at his T-shirt and jacket. Troy looks at him as if he just found the solution for everlasting world peace.

“Actually, I will.” And Troy does exactly that, tossing the clothes aside once they’re removed. They’re followed by his own tank top, leaving them both bare-chested and unashamedly staring.

Once they’ve both seen plenty, Abed lays himself back down on Troy to keep kissing him. The spaces between kisses are usually spent breathing, except for the occasional whisper from one of them to the other- only one or two words at a time, but enough to convey the love and affirmation surrounding them and keeping them close.

That lasts for a few minutes. After that, it’s increasingly impossible to ignore what’s going on below their waists. Abed hasn’t had sex since before Troy left, and unless the air conditioning guys have got something going on, he’s pretty sure the same’s true for both of them. So it doesn’t take much more than kissing for them both to be noticeably hard, and in Troy’s case, getting louder and louder whenever their clothed crotches make any contact.

If they weren’t in a blanket fort, with their good friend and roommate just a few rooms away, he would _really_ make Troy scream. As it is, he carefully lowers himself down and makes a “shush” sound. “Annie’s going to hear you.”

Troy’s quiet after that, but the way his eyes widen and hips twitch suggests that maybe the idea of being heard is more exciting than embarrassing. Interesting, even if only having tonight together means there’s nothing they can really do with that.

“Do you want these off too?” Keeping his voice steady, Abed runs a hand over Troy’s inner thigh, deliberately not touching the bulge that sits just inches away. Temporarily lost for words, Troy nods in fast, exaggerated movements, impossible to miss even if he was trying to.

“Good,” Abed whispers, moving his hand up to Troy’s waist. “I was hoping you’d say that. You look amazing.” The ongoing whispered praise keeps him grounded, helps him remember what he’s doing and what he wants next. Plus, most people he sleeps with seem to like it. Judging by Troy’s self-muffled gasp, he _really_ likes it.

Tempting as it is to just get rid of them, Abed pulls the boxers down slowly, revealing a small and widening strip of skin. Troy groans. “Damn it, you’re gonna tease me this whole time,” he complains, in a low voice with just a little rasp. They both know how patient Abed can be- if it comes down to a battle of endurance, there’s no question who will be first to break.

Lowering himself down again, Abed pulls Troy into a deep kiss, allowing him to moan to his heart’s content as they carefully grind against each other- Troy naked, and Abed still in his jeans, they try to fall into a rhythm. It’s not easy when neither of them can resist the urge to keep moving faster.

Troy wraps his arms around Abed, hands gentle on his back as they slide downward. That makes Abed smile, and he breaks their kiss to speak. “That feels good. Keep doing that.”

He does, and Abed can feel the tense muscles in his back relaxing. Troy’s hands on him always seem to have a calming effect, though usually in very different contexts. “You can do it,” he whispers as Troy’s hands start dipping lower, asking silent permission to keep going.

Getting a hand into his jeans isn’t particularly successful (why do they have to be so ridiculously tight?), but Abed understands the gesture, and only pauses the grinding for the absolute minimum time needed to force his jeans and underwear down below his knees. From there, they’re not hard to shake off, letting them fall somewhere that doesn’t matter nearly as much as the bed they’re on.

Without clothes in the way, Abed has a few more options for what to do next. Slipping a hand down between them, he takes hold of both of their dicks, gently bringing them into contact. Troy shivers, and grabs at Abed’s shoulders in an effort to pull him close enough to kiss.

Abed allows it for a moment, then lifts his head back up as he begins to stroke them both. “Faster or slower?” Though a little higher-pitched than normal, his voice doesn’t waver. “Talk to me, Troy.”

Troy looks up at him, eyes lightly glazed and mouth wide open. It takes a few seconds for him to gather the composure to speak, and even then, it’s shaky. “F… faster… please…”

He’s rewarded with a smile, and a faster stroking pattern. He rocks his hips upward into Abed’s hand, and when he isn’t stopped, he keeps doing it. “Faster,” he urges again, despite already having about as much stimulation as he can handle.

Abed complies, unable to resist indulging Troy even when going faster threatens to shatter his own self-control. He increasingly sinks down from where he previously held himself up, head coming to rest on Troy’s shoulder. It’s actually convenient, because he only has to turn a little to start leaving a trail of kisses up and down his neck. It’s a terrible shame that he can’t leave any marks.

“Abed?” His throat hums against Abed’s lips when he speaks. It’s a feeling he won’t forget anytime soon.

“Yeah?”

Troy faces him and smiles. “This is way better than the Kickpuncher sex scene.”

That’s a high bar to surmount, because it was pretty flawlessly filmed, but Abed can’t bring himself to disagree. “There’s always the sequel.”

“Kickpuncher porn parody.” Troy’s breath hitches a little. Maybe it’s laughter, maybe it’s a response to Abed’s delicate fingers brushing over his sensitive tip. “We’ll call it Dickpuncher.”

“Dick punching doesn’t sound very sexy.” Abed does the same brushing movement again, and Troy gasps again. Good, he won’t have to keep wondering. “But neither do most porn parody titles.”

Troy laughs in agreement. “Inrearendence Day. You think someone got fired for that?”

“We can only hope.”

Abed gets a feeling that the conversation’s over when Troy lets out a sharp gasp. He knows what it means- it’s not too different from the softer but increasingly urgent sounds escaping from his own throat. If he keeps going like this, neither of them will last much longer. He opts for caution, drawing himself away even as Troy protests and tries to pull him back.

“What are you doing?” It comes out as something Abed would describe as a needy whine, though not an annoying kind.

He crosses the blanket fort and rummages through his drawers. Where did he leave them? “Condoms and lube.” He smiles a little when he finally uncovers them from below a concealing pile of sweaters, bringing them back to the bed. “From what I’ve seen, farewell sex usually ends up with someone getting pregnant.”

Troy looks up, eyes wide with alarm. “That can happen?” His gaze nervously darts between Abed and the condoms in his hand. “I don’t think I’m ready for a kid. But if we have one, can we name it Chewbacca?”

“…Sure.” He’ll eventually explain that he was joking, but there are bigger priorities. Specifically, two priorities, and both are leaking a steady trail of precum onto the sheets. “Do you want to do this? And by ‘this’, I mean ‘me fucking you’.” With questions this important, he prefers not to leave any room for misinterpretation.

If he thought Troy’s eyes were wide before, now they’re _massive_. “Uh, do that right now,” Troy suggests, subtly positioning himself against the pillows.

Abed tilts his head, and looks at him for a second. “Is this your first time?”

Troy doesn’t respond at first, but seems to eventually judge that he’s more likely to get what he wants if he answers, and that getting what he wants matters more to him than concealing the truth. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” Placing the condoms on the bedside table, Abed passes the lube to his other hand. “Then I’m using my fingers first. You could get hurt if I don’t.”

“Come on.” Troy whines again, beckoning Abed towards him. “I was the quarterback. I’m tough. I can handle anything.”

Still clutching the lube, Abed carefully leans himself over to kiss Troy, stroking one of his cheeks. After the kiss, he keeps his face close. “Troy. I trust you. Can you trust me?”

They’re not cartoons, though sometimes Abed thinks life would be more exciting if they were. They could explore all kinds of concepts unavailable to the three-dimensional world. They could make massive changes to their environment and dynamics, and forget about them by the next episode. But even though they’re not cartoons, so such a thing should be impossible, Abed swears that for just a moment he sees stars in Troy’s eyes. “Yeah,” he answers in a breathy whisper. “Of course.”

“Good.” He opens the mostly-full bottle, and spreads lube across his fingers. Troy’s staring, and Abed can feel those curious eyes on him even when he’s not looking back. “This makes penetration easier and safer,” he informs Troy in a low voice. “Remember the exhibits at the STD fair?”

“All I remember is you crushing every bone in my hand when we arm-wrestled.” Abed glances up just in time to see Troy attempt a scowl, though clearly lacking any actual anger.

“I went a little over the top,” Abed agrees, adding a bit more lube to each finger. Better safe than sorry. “But it had to be done. The jock/nerd friendship’s been done so many times, we had to distribute the jock and nerd traits more evenly between us to stay interesting. That’s why I didn’t take dance classes with you. It would have ruined the balance.”

Troy hums, in the way he does when he finds something Abed’s saying genuinely interesting, but there’s a bigger priority at hand (like a puppy parade, or the stove being on fire because they tried a new recipe and misread the instructions). “So, are you gonna do something with that?” He points at Abed’s hand.

“Yeah.” It should be enough. He puts the lube aside, and grabs a pillow from the other end of the bed. “Lift yourself up a bit,” he directs, sliding the pillow under Troy’s hips until the angle’s right.

He moves into a sitting position that lets him see Troy’s face, and uses his lubed fingers to gently trace around his rim. He spent long enough getting ready that the lube’s lost most of its chill, so Troy only shivers a little bit.

Once he stops moving, Abed goes a little further to seek a reaction, pressing his index finger directly over Troy’s asshole. That gets a much stronger movement in response, and Abed leans forward a little to speak. “Is this okay?”

Troy struggles to get any words out for a few seconds. Abed patiently waits. “It’s… kinda weird. But better than okay. Keep going.” His voice, after returning to full clarity while waiting for Abed to finish preparing, is back to being interrupted by tiny gasps and pauses whenever he’s touched in a way that excites him even more.

He wants more, and Abed wants nothing more than to give it to him. Just a little pressure, and his finger slips in without much difficulty. Once it’s inside, Troy tightens around him, brow furrowing in a way that suggests either discomfort or confusion. Probably the first one.

“It’ll start feeling good soon,” Abed promises, reaching with his unoccupied hand to hold Troy’s. Their fingers lace together, so easily and naturally that they might as well have been doing it their whole lives. At the familiar gesture, Troy smiles, and visibly relaxes.

“I’ve done this,” he confesses, looking up at Abed. “But only to myself. And not many times.” In this environment, not just physically but emotionally enclosed, there’s not much to focus on besides Troy. It’s easier to pick up the more subtle suggestions of what he means, though he knows he can always just ask if something isn’t coming across.

“So you want me to be gentle, but not too gentle. Got it.” Troy gives him a grateful nod, and Abed takes that as his cue to start pushing his finger in and out. He pays close attention to the noises Troy makes in response, waiting for them to go quiet before bringing a second finger to join the first.

“Is that good?” He asks whenever he tries something new, and each time he’s profusely assured that it is, in fact, good. More than good, whenever Troy can think for long enough to come up with different words. Maybe if they had more time together, he would draw this out even longer, but Abed decides it’s fine to pick up some speed.

His fingers slide in and out of Troy, helped along by the lube. He keeps up the pattern while introducing a third finger, but as he pushes it in, Troy squeezes his hand. “Abed. Slow down.”

“Got it.” He keeps going, slower this time, and uses his thumb to stroke Troy’s knuckles in the way that he likes. “Is this better?”

“Yeah.” Troy doesn’t say much for the next few minutes, except to tell Abed to go faster or slow down. It’s a good system, one that makes it easy to know what to do, and by the time Abed feels ready to pull his fingers out entirely, Troy’s staring up at him as if he can’t completely believe this is happening.

Abed can’t blame him. If he were anyone else, he wouldn’t believe it either. He retrieves the lube and a condom from the bedside table, briefly showing them to Troy before opening the condom and putting it on. He’s relieved to see that it doesn’t have “Greendale” printed on it.

Next, the lube. It would be a satisfying narrative feature to just use up the rest of the bottle, but he doesn’t actually need anywhere near that much, and this brand isn’t cheap. It goes back to the table once he’s poured enough into his hand, and he moves up onto his knees so Troy can watch him apply it.

After spending so much time fingering Troy, getting to touch his own dick again brings out a sigh of relief. Of course, there’s still a careful balance to keep up- he doesn’t want to rush and potentially make mistakes, but every second he takes is precious time they won’t get back.

At least he has enough past experience to give him an idea of what to do. Relying on that, he spreads the lube out over himself, and gently pushes Troy’s legs apart to settle between them. “Ready?”

“I’m _so_ ready.” Without moving from his position, Troy reaches his hands out in a familiar way.

Abed stops, and looks at them. “We’re about to have sex, and you want to do our handshake.”

“Well, yeah. It’s a pretty awesome moment, isn’t it?”

He can’t deny that. “It is,” he answers, and they do their handshake. Sure, other people don’t do things like that, but being with Troy’s never the same as being with anyone else. With nothing else left to do, he gets closer and lets the tip of his dick touch Troy’s rim, in an identical circling motion to his fingers earlier.

They exchange one more look, and Troy gives Abed a resolute nod. Abed nods back, then starts pushing inside, hands gripping the sheets on either side of Troy to keep himself steady.

Troy cries out, his voice’s pitch ascending to heights that opera singers could only dream of. It’s beautiful, but Abed has to lift a finger to place over Troy’s lips, nervously glancing in the direction of Annie’s room. The last thing he wants right now is to be interrupted. “We have to be quiet, remember.”

“Right, sorry…” Voice still high and twisted by all the intense sensations happening to him at once, Troy has to make a real effort to respond. “Secret sex.”

“Secret.” They both smile as they speak at the same time, but Abed’s expression quickly shifts into something more focused. He has to slowly push further in, even as his thighs quiver with the need to do it all at once. His restraint’s rewarded by a particularly delicious, drawn-out whine from Troy, who’s staring up at him like he’s just seen Batman in real life. No, he looks even more adoring than that- like he’s seen _two_ real Batmans (Batmen? He’ll worry about that later) at once. Maybe three.

“Abed,” Troy hisses when Abed’s almost all the way in. He stops. “I wanted to say, I love you and this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” There’s a moment of silence, while Abed waits to see if he’ll say more, but that seems to be everything.

He cups Troy’s cheek, feeling it grow warmer under his hand. “I love you too. And I’d really rather think about sex right now than recategorising my list of favourite moments.”

Troy doesn’t answer except for a few small, stifled moans, and Abed takes that as an endorsement of his priorities. He decides to try moving around a little, pulling himself an inch away and then sliding back in. Troy’s tight, unbelievably so, but it’s all smoother and easier than Abed’s come to expect. _He trusts me,_ he thinks, newly appreciating what he already knew. _More than anyone really should trust anyone else._

He can’t blame Troy for that, not when he feels the same way. Though inherently contradictory thoughts _do_ have a certain way of humanising a person.

“Do that again,” Troy pleads, trying and mostly failing to keep his voice down. “And then keep doing it.”

“Got it.” After a few tightly controlled thrusts, he finally gives in, and lets his own desire make the calls on what he’s going to do and how hard he’s going to do it. Right away, he starts fucking Troy much faster, half-pinning him down by leaning over until their chests are pressed together and they can kiss as much as they want. It’s probably the only thing keeping either of them quiet enough to avoid detection.

When Abed makes the slightest movement away, Troy pulls him back into a tight embrace. “Abed, oh my god…” he lets out in a choked half-whisper. “Can you do some space-time stuff, make this last forever?”

“No.” He’s not sure he would want to. Not because this moment’s anything less than perfect, but because he can feel a building pressure, warm and getting hotter, that drives him to keep going and not look back.

“Worth a shot…!” The end of Troy’s sentence pitches sharply upwards, and one of his arms falls from where he had been holding them. “Oh, that’s good…”

Abed speeds up again, feeling a few signs of physical exhaustion starting to creep into the periphery of his thoughts. A single bead of sweat on his forehead, a racing heartbeat that won’t calm down… probably a third one, because most things come in threes, but he’ll worry about that later. His list of things to worry about later is getting pretty long, but that’s another thing to worry about later. Recursive. He likes it.

He starts making sounds, desperate little noises that he has to silence with more kisses, and that’s how he knows it’s almost over. With each thrust, his muscles tighten a bit more, until they reach their limit and an intense rush of pleasure forces them all to release at once. Unable to stop himself, he buries his face in Troy’s neck so he can cry out without it echoing through the apartment.

Taking a few deep breaths, he lifts his head again as soon as he trusts himself to stay quiet. Troy’s still watching him with the same needy, half-lidded expression, entire face practically radiating heat. “Abed, can I…” His hand drifts to his own dick, still hard and leaking, and he gasps when his fingertips make contact.

Abed nods, and shifts a tiny bit backward to give him space. Without his own immediate pressure to orgasm, he can pay a bit more attention to the finer details- the way Troy bites his lip when he touches a sensitive spot, or the movement of his eyebrows, or the way he’s been whispering Abed’s name this whole time. (There’s three. He could pick a hundred more if he had to.)

There’s no cameras in here, so Abed’s limited to what his eyes can see, but he has no doubt that right now, Troy looks perfect from every conceivable angle. And Abed’s so lucky to be here, to have this, especially after he spent three years mercilessly shutting down any spark of hope within himself that he ever could.

“Abed, hold me,” Troy begs, voice thick with unrestrained want. He gets what he asked for, Abed stroking his head and hair in the way Troy does to him when he needs someone close. In that position, being lovingly held, he jerks himself off until he cums with a stifled yell.

Right away, he goes limp, relaxing into Abed’s arms with a sweet smile. “Wow,” he whispers. “That was… _wow.”_ Abed waits patiently, but that seems to be all Troy wants to say. Not exactly a Roger Ebert review, but he’ll take it.

He pulls out of Troy, because that can’t possibly still be comfortable. As he moves, air brushes against the sweat and cum that clings to his body, and it starts to itch. Though it’s small at first, he knows it’ll only get worse until it’s impossible to ignore. Better to deal with it as soon as possible. He gets up from the bed, and Troy pulls himself into a sitting position. “Where are you going?”

“Cleaning up.” Abed peeks out of the blanket fort to make sure the coast is clear, then opens the blanket-doors fully. “It should be fine, as long as we’re careful with the water.”

Troy almost says something, but apparently thinks better of it at the last second, and instead gets up and follows Abed to the bathroom. Once they’re both inside, door safely locked behind them, Abed produces a stack of hand towels and takes them to the sink. Wetting them with warm water takes a while, since he can’t really turn the tap higher than a trickle.

Neither of them say much as they clean themselves and each other (they aren’t really trying to clean each other, but if they occasionally lose track of what’s part of their own body and what isn’t, it’s not something they worry about), besides exchanging a few short anecdotes about the aftermath of both paintball wars, which required much more cleaning afterwards. This time, a quick wipe-down with a wet towel and then a dry one is enough.

By the time they get back to the blanket fort, the chill of a late night is starting to set in, and Abed welcomes the chance to put on a warm set of pajamas. Troy’s are all at the air conditioning annex, but he more-or-less fits into a pair of Abed’s. It’s tight in a few places, like a wearable hug.

They can only fit on the same bunk bed if they cuddle close, which is fine, because that’s what they would be doing anyway. It’s like… a movie he saw once. _Not again,_ he thinks, but the warmth of Troy’s back against his chest and the sound of his soft breathing make it a little easier not to panic.

Troy yawns. “Night, Abed,” he sighs, snuggling a little closer.

“Night, Troy.” His arm loosely drapes over Troy, keeping him in a gentle hold. “You don’t need to say it to me, I won’t be sleeping.”

“Love you t- wait, what’d you say?” He turns his head, looking back at Abed with concern. “Why not? Is there a noise I can’t hear? Where is it?” He’s already looking around, pushing the blankets aside to get up.

Abed stops him. “It’s not that.” Troy looks at him, and gasps a little.

Oh. Apparently his face is giving away how he feels. He’d rather express it in words, though he has to swallow a sudden lump in his throat to be able to speak. “It’s… if I go to sleep, and then I wake up and you’re gone, I’ll wish I hadn’t woken up.”

Right away, he’s struck by the instinct to pull away and curl in on himself. He wasn’t supposed to do this. They were meant to make a beautiful memory that would nourish their souls during the long years spent apart, but like a bad director, everything he produces is maudlin and miserable. He wouldn’t even watch this to make fun of it.

Not for the first time, Troy reads his mind- the exact instant he starts to move away, Troy turns to face him, reaching out to beckon him close again. “Hey. If you’re not sleeping, neither am I. I don’t want to leave you more times than I have to.”

That’s it, something in Abed _shatters,_ and he lets his head collapse onto Troy’s shoulder. Silent sobs wrack his body, and before long, he hears what sounds like less-than-silent sobs from Troy.

They just lay there, crying together. At some point, it starts feeling more like he’s watching himself from above, and his director’s mind takes over. Hmm, there’s some clutter in the background, that should be moved unless it’s relevant to the story later. The lighting’s less than ideal, and would it kill them to let the camera see a bit more of their faces?

He’s not sure when he stops crying, and when he starts laughing. He only realises it even happened when Troy starts laughing too.

They laugh for a little longer, then Troy lets out a long sigh. “Man, I missed this.”

“Me too,” Abed immediately agrees, even as he wonders what _this_ is.

* * *

They don’t sleep. They spend most of the night talking, and the breaks in between kissing.

Neither of them talk about Troy having to leave soon, or the air conditioning school, or anything that’s happened since they were locked up in the depths of Greendale, since Troy nodded at a camera and paid far too high a price for everyone else’s freedom.

Instead, they talk about movies. Video games. TV shows. Sports. Happy memories, like cuddling on the couch in Abed’s dorm during a movie marathon. Sad memories, like the time they couldn’t agree on whether they should live together. Memories that are kind of both at once, like the Valentine’s Day dance- and they realise that in hindsight, maybe they should have already figured out what it meant that they went to such lengths to spend that evening together.

The rest of the world’s kind enough not to disturb them, until soft rays of light stream through the spaces between the blanket walls. Troy takes a deep breath, then rolls out of bed, retrieving his discarded clothes from the previous night. He changes back into them, making sure to give Abed a nice view.

“Your Bat-Signal.” Abed sits up and points at one of the larger beams.

Troy smiles. “I thought you were Batman.”

“I am. But you did what a hero does, Troy.” He offers his hand, and Troy takes it, both of them facing the exit. “And that’s how I know you’ll be okay.” Because the hero always gets a happy ending, and when he doesn’t, he makes his own.

Together, they leave the fort, gently squeezing each other’s hand in silent encouragement whenever one of them starts taking smaller steps. When they reach the window, they open it together, and Troy leans out to take a look.

“Huh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it just…” Troy blinks several times in quick succession, as if that’ll change anything. “Didn’t seem as far up when I was climbing towards it.”

Abed looks down as well. It _does_ look like a long way to the ground. “Will you be okay?”

“Sure,” Troy answers, a little too quickly. He doesn’t look up, but Abed can imagine that wide-eyed, overwhelmed expression.

“Just a second.” He runs back to the blanket fort to grab something, and returns to the window as quickly as he can. For a few terrifying seconds, his eyes are off Troy, and he’s relieved when he can look again and see that he’s still there.

“Here, use this.” He hands it over, and Troy stops staring out the window to look at it.

“Your grappling hook? Are you sure?”

Abed nods. “Yeah. Just promise you’ll give it back next time we see each other.”

Troy understands, right away, and that’s what Abed loves about him. If there’s a special item that needs to be returned, the story will make sure it happens, somehow. “I promise I will.”

“Cool,” Abed says, and Troy kisses him before he can say it again.

He barely gets a moment to reciprocate before it ends. Once the grappling hook’s securely placed, Troy smiles one more time, then starts sliding down the rope.

He probably doesn’t think Abed can see the smile disappear as soon as he drops below the window.

But he does, and he keeps watching as Troy descends to the ground and walks away, disappearing into the sunrise.

After losing sight of Troy, he turns around, expecting to see an extended shot of an empty apartment. Instead, he sees Annie, still in her nightgown.

“Abed?” She glances past him, at the open window. “You’re up early. Everything okay?”

Abed looks at her, then turns back to the window.

“I think it will be.”

* * *

(He stays in that final scene for a moment, perfectly stoic, until Annie asks him what he wants for breakfast.)

**Author's Note:**

> yes, inrearendence day is a real thing. i did my research
> 
> thank you trobed server for all the ideas and encouragement <3


End file.
